Generously Self-Absorbed
by gandalftheblazed
Summary: Clary Fray can't help but enable her mother and her habits. Jace Herondale wants to prove to Clary the numerous benefits of being selfish. Clary thinks she's the savior her mother needs, but her new friends think she needs to spend some time saving herself. HIGHSCHOOL AU. ALL HUMAN (Mature themes)
1. Chapter 1

**Just wanted to thank you guys for taking the time to read this story- it's going to be at least 10** **chapters, I'm not sure I want to make it very long as I have trouble motivating myself to write. Reviews are much appreciated as i'm very inexperienced and have much to learn! I'm going slightly OCC, but not enough to make these characters my own. All characters belong to Cassandra Clare- none belong to me!**

Clarissa Fray would have had to guess that her mother had just grown tired- tired of not her, but the responsibilities that had accompanied having a life dependent upon you. In fairness, Clarissa needed to remind herself her mother had done what was most beneficial for her child, and that it had not been very easy to let go of someone you loved so fiercely. Despite this, Clarissa couldn't help but be beyond hurt that her mother, Jocelyn, fought her own alcoholism to no avail. It was troubling, really, to see her mother destroy her body and mind with bottle after bottle- and she knew too. But, Clarissa remembered what her adopted grandmother, Dorothea, had told her.

Little Clary had only been a few years younger then, she had just entered the 9th grade and had been readjusting to her demotion to "bottom of the food chain," leaving middle school. Her mother had called her during her last class and slurred to her apologetically that she would have to take the bus home, and excitedly explained to her she was going to a Sublime concert tonight with her new boyfriend- she had wanted to make sure Clary new where she had left her EBT card for dinner tonight. Clary had not known if she wanted to sob or sigh, she didn't like her mother's boyfriend one bit. He incessantly fed her mother's drinking problems and had been the cause of her new drug addiction. Confronting him did no good, his rationale was if she had less alcohol to drink, less pot to smoke and less meth to snort, then she wouldn't do so much. Or, he tore his fist through the wall in a show of dominance and power, beat her mom brutally and left drunk to whatever hell-hole he crawled out of. Clary felt an even stronger need to shield her sensitive mother from this man, but she had done that to no avail.

She may have been young, but Clary was not stupid and she knew the ten extra minutes she gave her mom every morning to "wake up" was a period of time in which her mother would snort her good morning pick me up- and in a sick way Clary ignored this and needed to pretend her mother had baby powder on her nose and not meth. She can recall clearly the days before this conversation; her mother's boyfriend had detached the battery cables to the Honda so her mom couldn't leave for her job interview. Tiredly, she wondered if that was why she had to take the bus- which normally isn't an issue. The bus provided a type of independency that gave poor Clary some much needed peace, for neither her mother nor her mother's current suitor could prevent her from attending school. Opening her wallet, she could feel fear squeezing the last shaky breath from her lungs as her eyes raked over empty contents. Her mistake, she loathingly realized, had been letting some kid from her english class take her last three dollars to buy himself lunch. She had always been too generous for her own good, and now it had come back to haunt her. Panic closed in ever so slowly, with numbing feelings of trepidation cascading down her body like cold droplets of water. Begrudgingly, she dialed her grandmother's number- something she had avoided at all costs. Her grandmother was a stern, pudgy woman with little moral compass or conviction. She cared for her mother, but in a cruel detached manner in which lead her mother to have multiple dependency issues as well as a constant need for affection.(Which, she found in men) Clary bit her lip anxiously as heard her phone ring once, twice- and abruptly was answered by a female's gruff voice.

"What is it- don't you have better things to do then to sell me vacuums? Because the only thing that needs to be sucked up around here is your bullshi-"

Clary cut off her grandmother meekly,

"Madame Dorothea? It's Clary- could I trouble you for a ride home?"

Her answer was complete silence, and the phone made a "click" as it hit the receiver- leaving little Clary with a whiny dial tone as her closest comfort. Clary Fray was a stubborn, strong-willed and capable woman, but even the strongest of us fall prey to human weaknesses and Clary could not help but feel more alone in this world than ever. Letting her eyes gloss over and her eyes drift down to the ground, her fiery locks hung heavily against her as a barrier between herself and the world. Slumped on the ground, her knees scraped against the pavement of her high school's parking lot and the sun shone down threateningly against her pale, freckled skin. People stepped by, no one that she had known personally. Her slender frame rested delicately on the ground with her back to a wall, and time passed unnoticeably around her. She hadn't known how long she had pitied herself on the ground for until she had heard the obnoxious honking of a 1970 sickly green VW Beetle making rounds in the parking lot. There in the front seat she could make out the wrinkled mauve skin of her grandmother, her thick grey dreads and a swirl of astounding colors seemingly swimming on her shirt. Each pattern mesmerizing and intricate in its own peculiar way, and almost trance like Clary darted towards the vehicle- unsurprised her grandmother couldn't see her through her clouded, grey eyes. She opened the passenger door with a groan and slid awkwardly into the tattered seats.

Vaguely, Clary recalls the scent of cucumber wafting through the old car. She had been angry, relieved, saddened, and jovial her grandmother had made her way towards Clary in her time of need. Feeling so much at odds with herself, Clary opted to sit in silence until the very end- where she would tersely thank her grandmother and leave as quickly as possible to her small apartment in Escondido. Her train of thought had collapsed as her grandmother had shot her hand to Clary's leg and squeezed it roughly.

"It's not her fault- though im sure you like to think it is."

Dorothea's gravelly voice had taken on a lilt, and her appearance became even more car had shuddered and groaned, it was as if the car had agreed with her words. Raising both her eyebrows, Clary shot an openly befuddled expression in the direction of Dorothea.

"Who's?"

"Your mother, she is very ill. You know some of us are born wired a certain way- and your mother functions in a way that's chaotic and beautiful. She's manic depressive you know, and brilliant. She'll never want it easy- she'll never want to be alone. You need to stop being such a child and choose to love your mother for what she is and isn't- or leave her."

Her reperie was softly interrupted by her father, Luke. Piercing blue eyes regarded her from of the corner of his eyes, their intensity only heightened by the reflection of his glasses. He turned quickly to assess Clary, his shaggy brown hair twisting in all directions and his glasses slipping slightly down his long nose. His mouth gaped open and close, similarly to a fish Clary noticed in amusement, before he let out a long ragged sigh.

"Clary…... I-"

He cut himself off abruptly in embarrassment, and although he kept his eyes locked onto the ever- expanding road in front of him- Clary couldn't help but feel uneasy as she had the feeling he wasn't paying attention at all.

"Clary, you know I've always loved you. And your mother- she's not ready to take care of herself." Let alone you… the unspoken words hung heavily in his toyota tundra.

"I know you want to take care of her- so do I. But you aren't living your best life alone with her in that small, dirty apartment."

Clary left her face impassive and let nothing leave her mouth- she didn't want to project her feelings of rage and hurt unto Luke. After all, the best years of her life had been when her mother and Luke were married. She never knew her real father, he had supposedly left with her older brother once Jocelyn had gave birth to little Clary. He was a jealous man, or so she had been told, and couldn't look at Jocelyn without questioning her loyalty to him. She hasn't spoken to or seen them ever- really. Luke had taken it upon himself as Jocelyn's closest friend to help care for Clary, and they couldn't help but fall in love sharing such a huge responsibility.

They had ten years of marriage together- littered with camping trips and Disneyland and much more. But, after some time Jocelyn fell back into bad habits- she numbed her nightmares with substances and Luke couldn't watch the woman he loved more than anything kill herself in front of him. She begun to steal from him and cheat, and accused him of wanting Clary all to himself. Clary had blamed him only at the time, Jocelyn and her were forced to leave the house they all three had shared together in San Marcos because they could no longer afford it on their own. She couldn't hold down a job and Clary was too young- so they moved to a low rent ghetto where anyone from sexual predators to college graduates could live. It had not been a safe place to live, but Clary had grown fond of the seedy apartment complex, affectionately named "Pandemonium." But- here she sat, with a man she didn't think still held such love for her. He taught at Alicante High as an AP Art History professor in San Diego, California- a relatively new public school in which worked as an academic experiment of sorts. It's goal was to diversify its students and to make exceptional education available for all races and social classes- sort of a "No Child Left Behind" campaign in the city. Clary would be attending the school soon, a thought both compelling and terrifying. Luke seemed to take her encompassing silence as a positive response, and breathed out a weary " Thank you, Clary," before pulling off the freeway in the direction of her new home.

Clary could feel her shirt greedily sticking to the sweat off her back, acting as a loose second skin. Her hair had been pulled forcefully into a tight, frizzy ponytail to keep her vibrant curls clear out of her face. Her jeans felt cumbersome, and painful after having them glued to her body for so long. She glared at her new mortal enemy- her bitch of a bedframe before closing her white bedroom door with a soft , resounding "click." Pulling up her shirt to her breasts and pressing her sticky back to the cold door, she slid down to the ground with a breathy "ahhh." She was lucky Luke had a truck, and seemed experienced with helping disheveled woman rearrange their lives- though she speculated that's what had gotten him into his mother's pants. Clary supposed his home was comely, in an odd way. It was mostly filled with crammed bookshelves and empty picture frames- a couch and coffee table sat in the living room, with no TV. That was the extent of furniture in the house. The kitchen was small and clean, with no pans or utensils left out-The only bathroom sat upstairs, separating his and Clary's rooms. it was as if he rented himself a tiny library. Idly, she wondered if there had been pictures of him and Jocelyn before he could no longer stand to look at them together. Due to sheer exhaustion and boredom, Clary removed her jeans and climbed onto her unmade bed, all the while mumbling about heavy bed frames and itchy sheets. She flipped onto her back, staring at the plain, white dry wall surrounding her at all felt isolating to look around at such unfamiliarity. Some color would be nice, she had thought decidedly and let herself be comforted that if her life were to be thrown upside down during her last days of summer- she at least had her own space to decorate and enjoy. Her last thoughts before sleep took her in its clutches were of picture frames filled with colors- oranges, purples, blues and greens running profusely out of its corners to solidify into luminous gold eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Guys! Thank you for the positive response so far! One follow and eighteen views on my first serious work- I'm excited to keep** **turning out chapters. There will be some mature content in the following chapter, so if you're sensitive to mature themes I suggest stopping here. All characters belong to Cassandra Clare and Luke's speech on "AP guildines" is from the official AP Art History outline. Enjoy guys!**

Clary had grumpily woken up to what had sounded like an angry, condensed rainstorm. Stupidly, she realized Luke must have been showering before leaving for work. Feeling overwhelmed by the impending start of her senior year at a new school, Clary tried to bury her head under a pillow, a blanket- anything. Whipping her head up with a twisted scowl, she remembered she fell asleep half naked and with her bed shamefully unmade. She was not a tidy person- but she certainly hadn't thought to be so careless as to leave herself exposed to any elements! But- she had to sheepishly remind herself that she lived in California. The day she dies of 60 degree weather is the day she shames her ancestors who had endured below 0 temperatures in unfamiliar lands. Shaking off the remnants of an unbroken slumber- Clary discarded the remains of her dirty clothes and wrapped her slim figure into a ridiculously small towel Jocelyn had stolen from a hotel pool two years ago. Smirking at the thought of her klepto mother, she waited for the sounds of the constant stream of water to shut off before making her short trek to the bathroom. As soon as her door creaked open, she felt Luke's incredulous stare directed at her towel as he was leaving the bathroom. Shaking dark, wet strands of hair out of his face he coughed to hold back a smile as he pondered what the reasoning behind such attire would be.

"You know…" He started awkwardly. "I have towels you can use that aren't hand towels."

Clary felt her pride take a big hit and lowered her head to avoid baring her teeth at the man who had left her behind with her mother, who had risked her skin so her daughter wouldn't have to air dry after every shower.

"I- where?" She breathed quietly. Luke must have known he crossed some sort of line- something must have shown in her eyes because his presence turned from joking to anxious in seconds. He nodded in the direction of the bathroom and muttered lowly, smile fading,

"Underneath the sink on the right side of the cabinet."

She squeaked out a quick "thank you" in frustration and briskly walked into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She gripped the sink next to the door tightly and breathed in and out shakily, her knuckles turning white from the sheer force she exerted onto the counter. Letting the towel fall flat to the ground, she raised her head and appraised herself in the somewhat dirty mirror before her. She pinched at her breasts,which lay small and perky atop her chest, and narrowed her vibrant green eyes at her elfin features- she often felt she belonged on the box of Lucky Charms instead of that insufferable leprechaun. She supposed she was a spitting image of her mother before all the abuse, she hadn't carried the wrinkles in her skin Jocelyn had acquired over the years. Unlike her mother, she held no grace or poise or beauty- Clary figured she was cute. Like a rabbit, something small and unimposing.

Scrunching up her freckled nose in distaste, Clary left her insecurities behind with her discarded towel and made her way towards the sheen of the ceramic tub. Looking upwards past the ceiling, the sky and whatever resided within the Heavens, Clary let her long lashes brush against her lids as sher prayed to God Luke had the foresight to leave her hot water. She deftly grasped the brass knob for hot water and turned it as far as it would go, assuming her father had not cared enough to consider her. Tenderly, she dipped a toe in the water and almost flew back into sink- Jesus Christ! She hopped up and down on one foot, sure she looked positively insane, and let a string of vulgar curses fly free from her mouth as she held onto her burnt toe with everything she had. So Luke had plenty of hot water left, and she had been a jaded idiot to assume so little of him. Clary cursed karma and she cursed herself for being so negative. Quickly turning the cold water on so as to level out the temperature of the bath, Clary lowered herself carefully into the water.

The brass knobs and luminous shine of the tub reminded her all too well of when she had found her mother alone in her apartments tub, hand half-heartedly grasped around an empty aspirin bottle. Cluttered on the floor next to her mother was a pint of whiskey and her dirty clothes piled next to the bottle. Jocelyn's mouth was slack, her eyes were glazed over in a haze and her naked body slunk lazily in the water, covered in nicks and scars with questionable origins. Clary had been fourteen, and she had seen her mother try to kill herself two times before. It's an awful thing to come home from school, exasperated, to find your mother attempting to take her own life. Worst of it was- Clary knew she really wasn't trying. Clary was no stranger to those thoughts, to so much fear that you would have to keep waking up and that reality could be its own nightmare; she couldn't look at her mother in the bathtub with care or even pity. Now, she had only felt disgust that her own mother would put her through such things under the guise of struggling- when in reality she knew aspirin would take about two weeks to kill her truly.

A soft rasping of knuckles at the bathroom door rescued Clary from sinking deeper into her self induced hurt; relieved at such a distraction she took a deep breath and called out to Luke.

"Yes?"

" It's 6:45 Clary- don't forget classes begin at 7:45," Luke said hurriedly.

"Thank you, Luke." There was an air of tension between the two of them that was overwhelmingly palpable. It seemed her breath and his stilled in a synchronization akin to dance partners.

She could hear his strained voice through the door, "I love you Claire bear...Don't forget your schedule on the kitchen counter."

She replied honestly, "Thanks, Dad." She couldn't return his love, not now. She needed more time to forgive him- and her mother. But she could tell he was trying, and that mean the world to her. She unplugged the drain for the tub and listened intently for receding steps, and finally the door to the condo to shut. Once she was sure he had left, she scrambled out of the bathroom- barely remembering to grab a new towel and sped off into her unorganized new bedroom.

Picking up a random graphic tee one size too small and a pair of bootleg denim jeans, Clary rushed to find a somewhat clean pair of underwear to use. She kicked herself for thinking she would want to do laundry once she had got here, and now she's paying the price for being so lazy. Frowning at the only thong she ever owned, she shrugged and voluntarily gave herself a permanent wedgie for the day. Struggling to get her jeans on after tossing her shirt on, she stumbled back into the bathroom and tried to put on her pants as well as brush her teeth at the same time. To her credit, she had succeeded, but not before getting toothpaste stains all over her shirt which she had only now realized was her favorite shirt EVER. It had Archer, the world's "deadliest" spy with big red letters underneath his pictures that read "DANGER ZONE." He was only a cartoon character- yes. But there was something undeniably sexy about his blue eyes, thick black hair and total asshole attitude. But alas, she had not stooped so low as to pursue a fictional character as a boyfriend. Yet.

Frowning at her less than desirable appearance, Clary coated her lashes with the only makeup product she was comfortable owning- mascara. She had learned her lashes may have been dark for a gingers, but certainly not dark enough to see their true length- and she couldn't help but feel betrayed by her hair color. Running back to gather her things(a backpack, shoes would be wise, and a flannel) she swooped up her phone only to see her clock read 7:30. She yelped in fury and jumped down the stairs two at a time, barely remembering to grab her schedule before running out the door, and towards the impredning day…

She cursed god and ever angel in Heaven for not warning her about the dangers of running in jeans without a belt. Disheartened after running so long, Clary had made it to Alicante's giant campus at 7:50. Despite her tardiness, she couldn't help but halt herself in her tracks and take in the sights before her. Tall buildings marked with odd-runic shapes made of glittering glass, surrounded by lush greenery made her feel like she was in a fairy tale and not so much a prison. Class be damned, she decided taking her time to mosey around wouldn't kill anyone. Her fingers itched with a deep seeded need to sketch the intimidatingly beautiful towers around her. After blindly walking through halls and courtyards aimlessly, she begrudgingly accepted her fate and opened her schedule- only to find it was not her schedule at all, but a map of the school.

Her eyes lit up with viridescent flames and her brow furrowed deeply as a scowl threatened to mar her features.

"Are you fucking me?" She groaned pathetically to herself as she pulled at her hair. She hadn't even managed to grab the right piece of paper, how was she going to make a good impression with her teachers- let alone Luke?

"Well- No, but I'm sure there's someone here who would." A calm, reserved voice humorously commented behind her.

They must have been observing her adult tantrum, Clary realized with startling fright. Immediately, she spurred frantic thoughts of irrationality- what if she turned around and an entire class was behind her? _Oh god_ , she panicked _. I've been here not even a full hour and I've already started to draw attention to myself._ Clary swallowed painfully and accepted her fate. Spinning on her heel with pride and tilting her chin into the air as her body turned, without grace, towards the stranger. She opened her eyes and immediately dropped her defensive stance as she saw one of the most attractive man she had ever seen. Thick, jet black hair sat softly just where his neck ended, and stunning blue eyes stared bored back into hers. Full lips were present among his other gorgeous features, and Clary wanted to strangle the part of herself that made her hyper-aware how tall and fit he was. His lean build was an especially soft spot for clary and she denied the sudden fatigue she felt, threatening to literally weaken her knees.

She searched for anything to say, really anything, even if she had asked him how many limbs she currently had. She was starting to feel as if her limbs had slowly stopped being a part of the rest of her functioning body. Clary failed miserably, opening and closing her mouth again dumbfounded. Clearly uncomfortably with her lack of response and wide eyed stare, the man of her dreams shifted uncomfortably and coughed out a question,

"So, uhm, what seems to be the problem miss?"

He grabbed the back of his neck and rubbed it awkwardly, shifting his gaze to everything but her and tapping his foot as he waited. Clary slapped herself internally for glancing at his exposed bicep as he rubbed his neck, and distracted herself with the fact that this man had sounded like the world's least intimidating police officer. She wondered briefly what she would have done to get out of that ticket. With a shaky laugh Clary replied,

"I grabbed a map of the school- but not my schedule. I just moved here and- that doesn't matter, sorry. I need to get going to the office now." She didn't mean to sound so rude, but before she could think to apologize she saw the handsome man looked extremely relieved at being able to escape her presence. He waved a quick goodbye and walked off in the opposite direction of here, and thought guiltily that she bet he needed to go to the office as well. Color flushed her cheeks as embarrassment further settled in her, and she turned her eyes to her map and eagerly stalked off to the office for a schedule.

The office was….eerily empty for a school so large. She entered the room and it opened up to a large receptionist deck with two doorways on either side, both without labels above them. That was all that was in the room, besides the receptionist having plenty of space for whatever her work was- nothing. Clary had lacked to note the colorful, _Welcome To Alicante Academy!,_ above the reception area, but nonetheless felt dread in her bones. She approached the desk and nervously rung the shining bell to catch the woman's attention. The brown haired beauty in front of her had impeccable posture and kind, sea-grey eyes. Clary couldn't help but smile at the woman in front of her as she felt immediate ease settle in her gut. The woman's name tag read, _Mrs. Gray_ , Clary wanted to chuckle.

" How may I help you this morning?" Mrs. Gray said pleasantly and with a smile.

"I've clumsily left my schedule at home, I was hoping i could have a copy. I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be at the moment." Clary had the decency to look sheepish as she said this.

Mrs. Gray sent a slightly disapproving look, but relented nonetheless, "Of course you can. May I have your name, please?"

"Clarissa Fray, and thank you ma'am." Clary had noted a slight British accent, and decided it had only added to Mrs. Gray's charm. Efficiently, Mrs. Gray printed out Clary's schedule and handed it over. Clary smiled gratefully and let out a polite,

"Thank you again Mrs. Gray, I hope you have a wonderful day." Mrs. Gray's eyes glinted,

"Oh I believe I will. Good luck to you, Clarissa."

Clary let out a long, exaggerated sigh as she slumped into the only empty table in the crowded, noisy cafeteria. She tiredy mused about the oddities she encountered in the school- the two teachers she had the pleasure of meeting gave her the distinct impression that all the teachers in this school seemed exceptionally capable, if not a little terrifying. While they no doubt where strict in their methods, they made sure to have us begin learning right away. Unfortunately, art was Clary's first period, which happened to be her favorite subject and would have been an excellent way for her to start off her day. She had a sinking suspicion she'd already tarnished her reputation, at that thought she couldn't help but grimace.

Her math teacher, Mr. Pangborn, was everything she feared her pre-calculus teacher would be. Even his appearance gave way to a rather intimidating, if not sinister looking man. He was very thin, and adorned a pointed grey, beard and mustache. When he smiled, his teeth shone whiteley. Clary felt there was something menacing behind it, and she thought other students must have noticed it by now. _Or they know something I don't,_ she bit her lip anxiously at the very notion. Mr. Starkweather made her feel much more secure, he was an obviously determined man. He carried with him an air of intellect, which somehow made his long, beaky nose and salt n' pepper hair charming. He seemed ageless, and motivated to teach. Clary felt lucky to have such a man as her English teacher.

Clearing her mind, the young redhead pushed her gaze lazily around the room. No one in particular had talked to her today, and honestly she didn't feel too broken hearted over it. Most people seemed to already have their friends picked out for them, most likely the product of staying within the school district for most their lives. Clary's gaze began to drift towards the window in absent thought when she had caught the gaze of the poor guy she had terrified earlier. His blue eyes regarded her in shock and horror- very much a deer in the headlights. She looked at him apologetically and began to stand up and start in his direction carefully, like one would approach the back of a horse. _If someone was stupid enough to get kicked in their face, like I am,_ she grimly thought.

Absentmindedly, she noticed he was surrounded with a quite good looking crowd. There was a tall, statuesque woman who looked very similar to him, His sister, Clary distantly thought. It was no surprise this woman had many eyes on her at all time, and she seemed to wield that like a whip. She was dressed in tight burgundy high-waisted jeans, with black four-inch stilettos. Her shirt was black and cropped, underneath what Clary can only assume to be a very expensive leather jacket. Trailing behind her was a rather dorky looking man, but he was cute in a brotherly sort of manner, Clary supposed. He wore baggy faded jeans and a shirt that said, "May the fourth be with you", and she reckoned he forgot to do laundry recently. Clary guessed they must be in some sort of relationship, judging from how lovingly he regarded her. It was different from most of the stares that tall dark beauty was given, this one held tender affection and not blatant lust. The last person seated by the boy she had seen earlier was a man in which challenged everything she had considered beautiful. He by no means looked like anyone she had seen before, and his appearance made her crave her sketchbook longingly at the thought of capturing such a person. This man was… Exotic. While the fine man she had seen earlier was a traditional, refined beauty- this man was untamed and proud. His hair was fine, and curled against his head in golden blonde streaks. Clary had observed amusedly he looked to be made out of gold, really. His skin had a glowing tan to it befitting his angular features and angelic hair. It was obvious he knew how attractive he was, and that had disappointed Clary a bit. But, His muscular build was obvious in his tight fitting black shirt, and Clary felt her mind wander into the gutter and away from how awful a person he may be.

She had been so caught up in this group of gorgeous, intimidating people she found herself was almost at the edge of the cafeteria table. She sped up her pace and approached the table abruptly- opening her mouth only to be interrupted by the golden boy she had appraised earlier.

"You needn't terrorize him any longer, Red." He gave her a charming smirk and Clary noted in awe his eyes became liquid gold in the light. She knocked the errant thought away and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm sorry? I don't believe I know you," Clary replied with a frown. She had known she had acted like an idiot, but she hadn't appreciated being jerked around by some arrogant dick-head. _Don't blow your head here, he's not worth it_. She turned her head away from the man and towards the blue eyed boy she had ran into earlier with a smile.

"Look- I'm very sorry about earlier. My head wasn't in the right place and i didnt mean to make you uncomfortable. My name's Clary, It's nice to meet you." Clary confidently held her posture smiled dazzlingly towards the scared boy. After a a few seconds he seemed to warm up to her confident poise and friendly demeanour, replying with a soft,

"My name is Alec, It's a pleasure to meet you Clary." She beamed sweetly in return, Alec was a sensitive creature. It was a refreshing change of pace in her life, for a handsome man to be so sweet. The golden boy bristled at the positive exchange, and Clary had to fight a snicker as she pondered what had upset him to the point of looking like a wet kitten. His smirk turned malicious as he looked down, literally, upon Clary.

"I figured you'd be less cranky if you had something nice to look at. So I'm the one who has to tell you, unfortunately, neither of us are interested midge."

Clary raised her gaze to his in disgust, "I'm really not in the mood for you right now."

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard that," He mused. He continued on, eyeing her shirt darkly,

"And I find it hard to believe you, judging from all those lovely stains on your shirt." His eyes sparkled like golden flames, threatening to burn everything in sight.

Her temper reached unimaginable heights. Instantly, this stranger insults her mental stability and then her height,and then her chastity, all the while verbally stroking himself to his own ego.

"Jace, watch yourself," the beatuous woman called out sharply. Matching his heated gaze with a furious one of her own, the table lay silent, save a few coughs from the dorky boy. Clary turned her head abruptly and looked at the rest of the group.

"I'll have to be going now, sorry to bother you guys." Ignoring the man named, "Jace," as she went blindly towards an exit and out into the breezy, air of San Diego.

Isabelle flipped her stark-raven hair as she turned to bore her dark eyes at Jace. Her tone accusing, uttered,

"You did a right job of screwing that one up, she had come to apologize- and you called her a whore." Jace held a tan hand over his heart and pretended to look hurt.

"Where is the trust, Izzy?" She rolled her eyes at him and let out a irritated sigh.

"You deserve no trust- you're insatiable. I've seen crack-heads with better restraint." She scowled and somehow it hadn't marred her lovely features.

Jace rolled his eyes and gave her a crooked smile,

"Look- little red wanted only one thing. Alec's gay, and I'm not interested." Simon let out a scoff and tried stop his body from shaking with laughter. His chocolate eyes glinted humorously,

"I don't think she was interested in you, Jace." Simon laughed further at Jace's obviously disbelieving look. Isabelle nodded in agreement,

"Yeah- she probably just thinks you're an asshole like the rest of us do."

Alec broke out of his silence with a harsh laugh and quickly cut himself off when he saw Jace looking at him with a burning glower. Jace puffed up his chest and stood up with arrogance radiating off him in waves.

"I'm sorry to leave you peasants to it, but my adoring kingdom awaits me. I bid you all _Adieu._ " He stalked off proudly, like a lion among copious amounts of delectable prey. As he made way towards his fourth period class, the remaining trio had returned to their normal selves and chatted as they waited for the bell to ring.

Clary had arrived to her last class, finally. Relief was coursing through her veins, Luke was her last teacher of the day. While she felt herself already start to snooze off at the mere idea of sitting through history, she was eager to be so close to home. She didn't feel as anxious as she had with the other teachers, and she thanked God the school offered a course in Art History. The final bell for students rang shrilly as latecomers shuffled into the room, and distantly Clary noted her father casting his piercing blue stare in their direction. He cleared his throat as students settled in their seats, filling the round lecture hall around him. Chatter died eventually, and Luke walked over and leaned against the whiteboard and his button up shirt had squeaked slightly against the whiteboard. Clary had to stifle a laugh with a cough, and raised her eyebrows at the only paternal figure in her life. Luke let his lips gently curve upward as his eyes met with the rest of the class, and began to speak in a low, but sure voice.

"Welcome to AP Art History, my name is Mr. Garroway. I'm more than happy to have you as a part of my class. As you know, there are no prerequisites to this class. For some of you, this may be your first advanced placement course, for others, one of many. I'm going to read to you the expectations of this course." Luke grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and smoothed out its crinkles. " _The AP Art History course explores such topics as the nature of art, its uses, its meanings, art making, and responses to art. Through investigation of diverse artistic traditions_

 _of cultures from prehistory to the present, the course fosters in-depth and holistic understanding of the history of art from a global perspective. Students learn and apply skills of visual, contextual, and comparative analysis to engage with a variety of art forms, constructing understanding of individual works and interconnections of art-making processes and products throughout history."_

He looked up with a calm look on his face as he processed the differing looks flitting across students faces. Seamlessly, he eased back into his lecture, explaining the course thoroughly to his students and the expectations he held. Clary took the time to appraise the students around her languidly. She recognized a few random faces she'd seen pass by during lunch, but none that felt truly familiar to her. In her blank state, she failed to recognize the buxom beauty thathad sat with Jace and Alec earlier today staring right at her. Luke had finished his spiel forty minutes into class and had told the students while they had to remain here, they were free to chatter among friends. Clary barely noticed the desk beside her shift as the breathtaking woman from before filled the space with an authoritative air.

"Isabelle, pleasure." She lent Clary a glittery limb in greeting, and Clary had cautiously taken it and shaken Isabelle's bejeweled hand. Before Clary could introduce herself, Isabelle cut her off tersely.

"Clary- I know. I'm sorry my brother is a dick head, he's not always so bad." Clary's eyebrows shot up to her hairline,

"Alec did nothing wrong," she replied with a frown. Isabelle threw back her head and laughed vibrantly.

"I mean my other brother, Jace. You know, the guy who's full of himself?" Clary's eyes lit up with recognition and tilted her head thoughtfully towards Isabelle.

"So, how far did that apple have to fall from the tree to turn into such a turd?" Clary said in a scalding tone. She had the decency to look sheepish after saying such a thing about Isabelle's brother, but Isabelle had only let out an unflattering snort and giggle.

"He's adopted, but we've lived together most of our lives. He's not such a headac-" The bell rang, interrupting Isabelle's half hearted defense of her brother. All the students began to pack up their things eagerly and make their way off the campus and to sweet, sweet freedom. Before Isabelle could recover from the bells' intrusion, Luke had called Clary over in a dry tone,

"Miss Fray? May I have a word?"

He looked at her pointedly, ignoring the acidic glares Isabelle tossed his way. Clary turned to smile apologetically and hurried over to his desk, leaving an irritated Isabelle in her wake. She held her hands by her sides as she approached him and looked up nervously. Once she had gotten close enough for him to speak quietly, his demeanor became more tender.

"Clary, I have some work here that I can't do at home. I won't be home until about five P.M., maybe later. Are you going to be okay at home by yourself for so long?"

Clarissa was grateful he was worried about her, but she had been no stranger to an empty home. She flashed him a quick grin,

"I'll be okay Dad, I might wander around town anyhow," She replied in a reassuring tone. Luke smiled brightly towards Clary and murmured his goodbye, and something unintelligible that sounded like a "see you at home."

Isabelle had, for whatever reason, chosen to stand in the doorway and watch the brief exchange. Once Clary made it past her and into the hallway, Isabelle darted her hand out and snatched Clary's wrist in a vice like grip. Clary spun, astonished, to look at Isabelle incredulously. Isabelle's expression was dangerous, and leaned forward towards Clary in a conspiratory manner. She looked around wildly and turned back to the redhead,

"Are… Are you getting it on with Mr. Garroway?" Isabelle whispered, smelling out possible gossip. Clary immediately blanched and turned green with disgust. She shook her head furiously and swallowed a small amount of puke threatening to splash into her mouth.

"By God, NO. That man is my father!" Clary claimed horrified. She imagined she looked comical with her sickly color and wide eyes. Isabelle look satiated immediately, albeit disappointed it wasn't something juicer for her to get her claws into. She laughed,

"I'm sorry, you two just seemed to have so much tension- and he looks nothing like you." Clary remained impassive and answered her in a cool tone,

"I look like my mother, mostly." Isabelle satisfied with Clary's response let go of her wrist and waved her along. Compelled by this confident, outgoing woman, Clary trailed alongside Isabelle as fast as her short legs would carry her. They walked, well Clary jogged, out to the entrance of the school in complete silence. Yet, it was comfortable and Clary had found she felt at ease as she strode with Isabelle through hallways and steps. People had turned to look at them both, and she couldn't help but feel flattered with all the attention. She wondered, bemused, if this is what turned Jace into an asshat. Direct sunlight broke Clary's concentration as she squinted at her surroundings. Isabelle had stopped closed her eyes at the warmth of the sun soaking into her skin. She let out a breathy sigh and Clary noticed a boy staring at Isabelle so hard he had ran into a trashcan. Clary lifted both eyebrows at Isabelle incredulously, and waited for her to speak. The raven-haired model threw a friendly smile in Clary's direction and clasped her hands together loudly.

"I want you to come over to my place," At Clary's uncomfortable look Isabelle hurried on,

"It'll be fun, What's there to be afraid of?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow! I'm absolutely blown away by the positivity you guys are bringing into my life right now! Sorry this chapter has taken so long and is kind of short, with work and school I'm trying my best to make time for writing.** **Thank you for the people who've decided to support me by favoriting or following, and even those who have given me a chance by reading my story! Unfortunately, whoever left me a review I can't thank personally as whenever I open my "Reviews" for this story it read empty. But, thank you for making the time to read and review my work. Enjoy!**

Clary knew there were plenty of things to be afraid of in this short life, and there was a sickly sweet voice in her head the cooed everything that would go wrong for her. She knew she wasn't ready to be so close to Isabelle, to have a girlfriend that would come over and paint her nails- or whatever it is Isabelle did to pass the time. Such intimacy was reserved for those closest to her, and Clary felt so much confliction towards letting someone in so soon. As badly as Clary wanted to be daring, beautiful and sharp like Isabelle, she felt unease linger in her gut. Clary didn't notice her mouth had thinned into a line while she stood battling herself, and Isabelle's determined stare had turned into a disappointed pout. She pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips, her blood red fingernails reminded Clary of a hawk ready to descend upon its prey.

"You're coming with me. I've never been one to take no for an answer," Isabelle paused to search Clary's eyes for resistance and found an abundance. The two women appeared to be in a Mexican standoff, neither willing to give in to the other's stubborn desire. Obsidian clashed with emerald as they bore into each other, until Clary's phone began to ring obnoxiously. Her cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she slid her hand into her back pocket and pulled her phone out quickly.

Clary didn't hesitate to answer once her mind had registered the caller ID as "Mom 3," she backed away from Isabelle and she greeted her mom eagerly.

"Hey Mom, how are you?" Her eyebrows furrowed in concern as her mind flitted through all the awful circumstances that could have taken place in her absence. Jocelyn's voice came through croaky and sweet,

"Hey baby, I'm great. How was your first day?" She sounded breathless and distracted through the phone, and Clary couldn't help the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"It was great, Mom," she forced out. "I didn't know Dad was such an amazing teacher." Jocelyn let out a light gasp,

"How's Luke? Is he seeing anyone?" Disappointment stung Clary bitterly as she listened to her mom continue to talk about how happy she and Clary's father had been. Clary hung her head. She knew her mother was so stuck in the past, unwilling to move forward. Jocelyn disregarded all conversation connected to her child and continued on shamelessly,

"You know, your father was really my best friend. We were such a team, if I just had a little more time with him- I love your Dad so much, he was so good to me..." Jocelyn's wistful voice was cut off by a gruff man in the background. Clary couldn't make up what he said, but she figured he hadn't appreciated Jocelyn's praise of Luke at all. Listening to her mother hiss at her current boyfriend was not how Clary intended the phone call to go. It turned out, her mom felt the same way as she abruptly hung up the phone call with no farewell to her daughter. Isabelle's noted Clary had begun to tremble slightly, her fist curling around her phone with enough force to turn her knuckles white. Her beautiful face adopted a look of concern as she placed her hand delicately on the small of Clary's back. Her voice was low, and urgent,

"...Clary? Do you need me to take you home?" Clary nodded emptily and offered a lopsided smile in return.

"Thank you. I'm sorry to trouble you at all, Isabelle." Isabelle wrinkled her nose in distaste and scoffed,

"No more apologies. It makes you look sad- and my friends call me Izzy." With a bounce in her step, Izzy sped off towards the nearly empty student parking lot with Clary scrambling behind hastily. Once the were in the car, Clary lost touch with time. She felt the world roll by lazily as she stay frozen in a moment, isolated from her female companion. Time flickered back into her life and she was surprised to see Isabelle waiting patiently for Clary to leave her car. She grimaced,

"How did you know where I lived?" Clary asked suspiciously. Isabelle rolled her eyes and then deadpanned,

"You told me when I drove off campus." She laughed and then began to back up. She called out to Clary once more,

"You need some rest, I'll see you tomorrow!" Clary waved at the cars retreating form and simply sat on the steps leading to her home.

The condo she lived in had little to no natural light trickling through the few windows she had, and the thought of being stuck somewhere without sunshine was disturbing. She felt her stomach grumble thunderously and clutched her gut in response. Clary was at a loss, she couldn't cook and even if she could, she had known Luke's apartment was practically picked clean as he ate out most nights. Tired of feeling sorry for herself, she googled "Food places in my area" and found _Taki's,_ a diner. The distance read 1.7 miles, but Clary supposed she had absolutely nothing better to do.

The shiny booth Jace sat in was red and retro, _red_. How could he not find a _single_ seat in this place that wasn't _freaking_ red? Almost everything was red and it drove him insane: the counters were _red_ with white streaks down there sides, the tables were _red_ , the chairs were _red_ , and Isabelle's mom jeans were _red_. His face adopted the look of a petulant child whom had their candy taken away from them. He crossed his arms and let out a huff, to which Isabelle disregarded in favor of chatting animatedly with her nerdy boyfriend. He was in a particularly foul mood at the moment, all thanks to his _good_ friend Clary he encountered today.

She and her vibrant green eyes had managed to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his mind. Like a parasite, she managed to suck all enjoyment out of his day and thus he had successfully wasted his precious time. Jace narrowed his eyes; _It's no wonder the used to accuse redheads of being witches_. He smirked inwardly at his own joke, and then his thoughts immediately became clouded with Clary, Clary, _Clary_. He hadn't found her to be earth-shatteringly beautiful like his sister or previous girlfriends. Not at all. She was beautiful- but there were _plenty_ of beautiful women in Jace's life. No, _no_ \- it was because she had _ignored him entirely_. Besides the one thing she said to him in confusion, she had managed to see everything _around_ Jace. He hadn't managed to dig under her skin at all when he openly insulted her, he'd received only a pissed off look and a lecture from Isabelle... And she had been completely oblivious to the fact he passed her by _multiple times through those GOD-Damn hallways_ and she never even ONCE glanced in his direction. _Not to mention, she fawned over Alec- Alec?_ , Jace thought furiously. Of all people, she found _him_ to be better looking than Jace. Jace- whom had perfected making his voice sound like liquid honey and his smirk to make even the tamest of women mild. Jace- who knew his abs were so solid, he could crack open a beer on one of the six. It's like this woman walked through the world oblivious to everything truly wonderful. His face darkened and he tried pitifully to forget about Clary again.

Jace sat there opposite Isabelle and Simon moodily. He rested his elbow on the table with his cheek pressed against his palm, reaching his other hand out to grasp it firmly around a metal fork. He began tapping it against the table ceaselessly- much to the dismay of his companions. He took so much enjoyment out of the suffering of his sister and her boyfriend, that it only fueled his inner child further to begin humming loudly as he closed his striking eyes. Isabelle seethed in her seat, trying her hardest to ignore her adopted brother's incessant need for constant attention. Even Simon began to narrow his eyes and stare harshly at the blonde's movements.

"Is there something you'd like to say, Jace? Or are you going to _continue to sit there and SULK the entire time?_ " Isabelled hissed, nostrils flaring. Simon began to play crowd control and rubbed small circles into her back, whispering " _It's okay_ " in her ear as he continued his ministrations. Jace's full lips transformed into an extremely pleased smirk. He halted his actions in their tracks and allowed silence to be his sole reply. Most of him delighted in irritating Isabelle and Simon so much, but a part of him did feel some remorse. Overall, he was satisfied with the whole table being as aggravated as he was. He began sweep his gaze lazily for that cute blonde waitress. Carly- Kayleigh? Cassandra? He really couldn't care to remember.

Clary pulled at the entrance to Taki's- and found the doors wouldn't budge at all. Growling harshly, she found there was little tolerance left in Clary's heart, mind and soul. She had felt exhausted surrounded by such a new environment, her mother had placed a strain on her and she had gotten miserably lost along the way. Her navigation had stayed in the same position she started in the entire walk to Taki's, and she had never felt like more of a _child_. Any man, door, or dog that decided to make the mistake of standing in her way would experience her _merciless_ wrath. Clary exerted as much force as she could possibly muster up and kept pulling the door handles to no avail. She gritted her teeth and doubled her resolve- she would not give in on this day!

Closing her eyes she reached to grab the door handles again- only to find no door existed in that space any longer. She lost her balance and fell forward clumsily, hands extended forward. There was no impact from the hard floor, only a radiating, warm mass in front of her. She whipped her head up and slammed her head accidentally into someone's chin. She dug her fingers into her frizzy hair and gripped her head in pain, letting out a yelp as she hopped the commotion, she had heard a man's low, pain-filled groan. When she focused her eyes in front of her, she saw Jace's breathtaking face contorted in pain and the sunlight streaming from the window created a soft halo around his features. Realizing she was staring at him, he smirked sarcastically and sharply spoke.

"You know, if you wanted to _hit_ on me... You didn't have to do me any bodily harm." Clary scrunched up her nose and snorted, still holding her head with one of her hands.

"I swear to God I am simply amazed you have to eat at all, considering how _full of it_ you are." He squatted down on his knees and _literally_ lowered to her level, like he was chastising a small child.

"I'm full of it? You find me at lunch, and now you're finding ways to run into all _this_." He gestured to his delectably toned body and Clary kicked herself for being attracted to such an asshat. He caught her staring at his sculpted chest and chiseled arms a little _too_ long and seemed to have achieved something- What he had achieved, Clary didn't know. All she knew is he bore his golden eyes into hers heatedly after that. She felt a blush creep up her neck and anger flared up inside her. Clary growled at Jace,

"What is your problem? What have I done to you? I've known you for two minutes and all you do is flatter yourself and try to make me feel small!" His smirk seemed to falter for a moment before smoothing out into a carbon copy of the original.

"Midge, you are _small_."

She raised both her eyebrows in frustration and poked his chest hard with her finger. He flashed her a look of surprise and protected his chest.

"Do you even have any remorse for how you treated me today? Or are you so caught up trying to catch your reflection in any shiny surface that you just can't make the time to be a _decent_ human being?" Clary left him absolutely no time to reply.

"You think because you're hot guy with a bad attitude, you're worth everyone's time. Well, you're wrong. You're going to live a superficial and short-lived life, where you will lose your pretty hair early on and you will grow fat and sickly from beer and cheap take out because no woman or man will want to take care of a man that has as much emotional depth as a carrot." Clary finished her little rant with dilated pupils and clenched fists, breathing heavily and subconsciously moving closer towards Jace. He stood still, like a intricate marble statue. His golden irises bore into Clary's emerald ones. He beamed entrancingly at her, and suddenly Clary felt like a moth to a flame. His eyes glinted with mirth and she noted briefly that one of his incisors had a slight chip in it.

"You think I'm hot?" Clary froze. Whether she was overwhelmed, or furious, or horny she didn't know. All she knew was that she just wanted to let go of everything and just break down in that retro diner. Her body and mind needed to feel humor in something and she just wanted to feel _better._ She started to shake her head with disbelief, laughing hysterically at the sheer ridiculousness of this conversation. Throwing her head back, she clutched at the sides of her stomach as her body racked with hearty laughter. Jace raised one golden eyebrow at her hilarity, but otherwise gave away nothing as to whether or not he had decided she needed to be in a loony bin. He couldn't understand what she had found so funny, but could not stop staring at the vibrant vixen before him. After she calmed down a bit and could breathe, Clary wiped the tears from her eyes and replied teasingly to Jace.

"I really envy your ability to bat away everyone of my insults." He gave her an arrogant smirk in return,

"It's about time you show a little more respect in my presence." He straightened his collar pretentiously as he pretended to be a noble man. Clary snorted at his pose and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I'm absolutely dying to be ravished in your arms and I can only hope to become a better woman as I bask in your presence, M'lord." Clary curtsied awkwardly, fanning her face with her hand in the most dramatic fashion letting out a feathery sigh. Jace adopted a look of extreme pleasure and smirked knowingly at her, leaning in forward to whisper in her ear,

"It was only a matter of time, Love." His hot breath cascaded against her neck and Clary felt her heart collapse in her chest as she blushed furiously. When had it gotten so _hot_ in here, and when had she stopped being able to _breathe_? A rude cough interrupted the two and they turned to see Isabelle and Simon standing by the entrance of the diner. Isabelle held a takeout box in the crook of her right arm while Simon held her left hand. In synchronization, they both raised one eyebrow towards Jace's close proximity to the small redhead. Clary jumped away like she had been tased and managed to look completely embarrassed. Jace had just looked extremely satisfied. Isabelle lips grew into a predatory smile, her teeth glittering dangerously at the two.

"Clary, it's been so long. What have you been getting up to? I see you got your much needed sleep." The raven-haired girls' dark eyes twinkled amusedly at the redheads creeping blush.

"I just walked in to find some food and I ran into good ol' Jace here," she laughed out nervously. She had a horrible feeling in her gut which screamed Isabelle was going to interrogate her miserably in class tomorrow.

Simon guawffed and gave Clary a bemused look,

"Did you find any wild food in the area?" Clary snorted in reply at his dorky joke. She shook her head sadly,

"The Wild Burger Fled." Simon cackled at her weak joke and Clary decided he seemed like the kind of guy you would want to bring home to your parents. Her eyes flickered over to Jace who had been glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She swallowed loudly and couldn't help but think Jace is the guy you'd have a one-night stand with. She hid her face with her hair and blushed further at the thought.

"I see," Isabelle paused at looked at her brother. She pursed her lips and smiled as the trio sat in silence before her. Isabelle's eyes lit up and she beamed proudly. Shaking the takeout box slightly, she offered it to Clary.

"You can have Jace's food! Since he decided to ditch us to flirt with you." Before Jace could protest, Isabelle pushed the takeout into Clary's arms and began to strut out of the restaurant with Simon trailing behind her. Before she made it through the door, Isabelle turned and mouthed at Clary,

" _I want details."_ Clary turned away from the gossip hound she supposed was now her friend and looked at Jace. He was staring off in his sister's direction with an extremely sour look. Clary didn't care enough to filter herself at this point.

"You look like you smelled a fart." This snapped Jace out of whatever tantrum he was going to have and scoffed with an entertained look in his eyes. He raised one blonde brow at Clary loftily,

"Are you saying you farted?" She huffed and slapped his arm several times in annoyance. He yelped and pretended to be mortally wounded, falling to the ground and making a huge scene.

"Jace," Clary hissed at his twitching form, "What the HELL are you doing?" Jace fluttered his eyes open and grabbed Clary's delicate ankle.

"Just- tell my family….I- I love them…" He stopped breathing and tossed his head back on the floor. Clary couldn't help but snicker at his antics. She looked around to see a male waiter approaching them angrily. Deciding that somewhat playing along would drive him off the floor and out of the restaurant faster than if she had resisted his antics, she kneeled on the ground and whispered in his ear.

"As much as I would love any excuse to perform mouth-to-mouth on your beautiful, wonderful face- that floor is disgusting and there's a waiter on their way to kick us out." Apparently stroking his ego had worked because he launched himself off the floor, nearly knocking over Clary in the process. He grabbed her hand and before she could form a proper reaction, they were out into the street in front of Taki's. His hand was big, and warm. Clary distantly thought how her hand must have been sweating in his searing touch, but Jace either had not noticed or didn't care. She thought it slightly odd he hadn't let go of her hand. She retracted her grip and looked up at him underneath her lashes. His voice came out low and slightly gruff, which stirred parts of Clary she didn't know were listening.

"Do you need a ride home?" He offered it casually, but there was an undertone of something she couldn't pick up. Considering briefly if she wanted anymore time with this man who made her feel so conflicted, she looked down at her dainty feet. She shook her head slowly and pierced him with her gaze.

"I don't think so, walking would be good for me." Clary thought he had seemed a little disappointed for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it had came. His signature-charming smirk came back onto his face.

"Suit yourself, see ya around _Clary_." The way her name rolled off her tongue made her shiver, and he had definitely noticed proudly. She began to walk off in the direction of her home, and turned around to wave at his still, impassive form. Clary thought it was funny, he seemed to blend in with the sun behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Y'all are who I live for. I've been super busy with life, and it means so much to me the amount of support I'm getting from y'all. There's nothing more refreshing when I'm experiencing writer's block and a lot of drama in my life to sign on and see those of you who have left reviews, favorited and followed my story. Special thanks to clace02 and 44 for leaving positive feedback on previous chapters! I can finally see my reviews, yay! So I have to apologize for how long this chapter took to write, and if I'm being honest I think it's pretty weak as a chapter but I'm considering coming back and rewriting this story once I've completed it. That way, I can learn from all my successes and failures.** **Anyways, enjoy!**

Jace had never experienced anything like that in his life. Someone had offered him conversation and asking for _nothing_ in return. There was no exchange of phone numbers, she didn't search for excuses to touch him, she didn't pretend to drop anything so she could bend over in front of him. Honestly? He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. Admittedly, he was very satisfied he had caught her brief glances and moments where her cute face flushed, but there wasn't much else she gave away to him.

She just treated him like, well, _him_. She wasn't afraid to rag him out or stand up for herself, and on the opposite end of things- she wasn't afraid to just let go and enjoy herself around him. It was quite distressing to be somewhat _seen_ by a stranger. He knew she had not let herself be disarmed by his good looks nor his abhorrent behavior, she had only felt disgust towards him. There was no excusing his poor behavior just because he was incredibly handsome; She only seemed to be further enraged he used his looks somewhat as a , he wondered if she had the ability to see through everyone. _I still think she's a witch_ , he thoughtly conspiratorially. He winced at the prospect of being turned into a toad by Clary. Jace idly realized he had been sitting on the hood of his vehicle unmoving for quite some time, staring at the concrete divider in front his yellow Chevrolet Camaro. Eyes, closing softly, he drifted back to Clary.

He found himself wishing to spend his time with her- he wanted to see her laugh carelessly again. He spent a huge portion of his day just thinking of how much he wanted Clary to jump ship out of his life, and now he was going to spend his night wishing she was a bigger part of it. Jace had to admit for the first time, a person made him slightly anxious. Concern flitted across his features in a rare moment of vulnerability and he raised his eyes to the clear sky above him. The red-headed fox was startlingly easy for Jace to be around, and Jace found he didn't want to treat her poorly like he had treated the rest of her gender. He may have lots of admirers, and people may want to be his friend to benefit their own popularity, but he lacked any true friends in his life. His family was expected to see him for who he was, they were the exception. The saw past his egotistical facade and knew about the vexxed child beneath, who was possessive of the people close to him; the boy who was so deathly afraid of losing them.

They saw an angry creature who needed affection and validation as a constant in his life because of everything it had lost. Jace never knew his birth parents, and he knew nothing more of them besides the fact that he had been found next to dumpster in an alley in downtown when he was four. A server at a local restaurant had called CPS when she had discovered Jace alone and shivering on her way to take out trash during her shift. He vaguely remembers a woman asking questions about his mom and dad, but he couldn't remember if he had answered or not. Next thing he knew, Maryse and Robert Lightwood adopted him and he was forced to socialize with little Alec and Izzy. Jace had never been given the chance to take his own pace to recover as his new sister, Isabelle, decided he was her human pet. She bossed him and Alec around the house constantly, acting as the ring leader amongst the trio. He remembers Maryse grumbling one night as she left the room which held all three of her children in one king-sized bed,

" _Should have never had three…now we're outnumbered…mhmph"_ Jace found himself smiling goofily at his mother's poorly concealed irritation. That had only fueled their giggles and mischievous behavior. It had touched him especially she acted as if she actually gave birth to Jace herself. A close, obnoxious honk from nearby interrupted Jace's reprie. With a long sigh, he hopped off his now slightly dented hood and unlocked his vehicle. He wondered as he crouched into his car if his little brother Max would be excited to see him home so soon.

By the time Clary had reached her home, she felt her earlier weariness seep back into her bones, nearly becoming immobile as she huffed up the steps. Clary had not been an adventurous or outgoing person ever in her life. Nor, had she been an athletic one. She really needed to do something besides playing video games and drawing, but she had neither the energy nor the motivation to do better for herself. At such a disappointing prospect, Clary felt her heart painfully squeeze in her chest. In all seventeen years of her life, she felt like she had accomplished nothing. All she wanted to do was keep her mom safe and happy, and she couldn't. Her mom wasn't as strong as her which brought a desperate need in Clary's heart to take care of her. Clary wanted to fiercely protect her mom from reality and herself, she wanted her to feel confident enough in herself that she didn't need to look for happiness in all the wrong places. Luke was rational, and calm which led Clary to believe he didn't need her. He allowed her to stay with her mother against his better judgement; She didn't have to protect him because he was strong enough to protect himself.

A deep sigh was pulled from her as she stood, hovering in front of the entrance of her new living arrangement. She raised her hand and tentatively closed it around the door knob. She felt the cold metal sting her palm amd creep into her blood. The bite of the cold door knob reminded Clary to continue to review her list of things she had failed miserably to accomplish in her short life. She had, _maybe_ , two somewhat friends in her life and she never bothered to keep in touch. Confliction wreaked her mind as she wanted to live her life alone with no one to rely on, but at the same time she couldn't ease that deep ache she felt whenever she looked at people talking- _laughing_ freely.

Her mind craved that intimacy- and recoiled from it in fear. Isabelle and Jace? Their attention stirred something sinister beneath her skin, she could already feel the hackles on her neck rising from the fear she felt. Rationally, she knew the siblings meant her no harm. But something burrowed within her roared, and it was vicious and told her terribly irrational things. That demon crawled onto Clary's back breathed unlikely predictions about how Isabelle would use her, trick her and humiliate her, how Jace would do the same. The worst thing it's foul tone whispered against the shell of her ear, was that in truth Isabelle and Jace were wonderful people; They only pitied her. It ripped itself off her back and ran back into her heart cowardly and before she could find the resolve to fight back.

She wanted to draw desperately, it was the best outlet she had. Her fingers twitched and she tried to shake off losing a battle to _herself_. Clary forcefully wriggled the door knob and kicked herself for forgetting to lock it this morning as the door flew open smoothly. The house loomed above her harshly, her shoulders hunched in response to the suddenly imposing appearance. Tunnel vision provided Clary with only the sight of the condo's stairs, which beckoned her to collapse into the warmth of her bed and the safety within personal space. Taking the steps two at a time, Clary briskly walked up the stairs and made for her bedroom. She had shut her down as quickly as she opened it and then moved to the left hand corner of her room to sit on her bed. Several times she narrowly avoided tripping on carelessly literred belongings of hers she neglected to put away, quite an impressive feat considering her bed was about eight feet from the door.

Sitting down with a loud "thump," Clary's stretched her hand out blindly in search for her sketchbook, which she had always hidden under her pillow. The familiar raised texture of the sketchbooks cover brushed against her fingertips and she pulled it into her lap. Reaching for the pencil resting inside the spiraling of the book, Clary flipped it open to a new page and began to let her hand flow freely across the rough paper. Her muse held on to Clary tightly and began to override her actions and make her actions spontaneous and unpredictable.

Forming before her was a faceless woman with seductive curves and gracious poise, resting elegantly upon a throne made of human bones in a short, black Victorian dress. Her raven hair lay thick and braided on her shoulder, while one of her heeled feet rest against the temple of a scrawny man. It dawned upon Clary eventually, but it had taken her a bit of time before she realized she had drawn Isabelle as a queen and Simon as her slave. Her cheeks flushed with mortification at her own perverse thoughts and wondered, where the _hell_ that had come from? She knew Isabelle for not even a full day and she was already drawing her as some sort of steampunk BDSM queen? She shuddered at her own subconscious, she was no better than that boy who had run into a trashcan just looking at Izzy.

In the stillness of her home, Clary's ears had picked up on the opening of the front door. Eager to spend time away from herself, she shut her notebook without hesitation and shoved it underneath her pillow. She crept out her room, door shutting with a gentle "click" as she made her way to descend down the wooden steps into the living area. Nothing had changed in the living room, save Luke sitting on the brown, leather sofa leaning forward to open a plastic bag filled with takeout. Clary shifted and the floor creaked, prompting Luke to snap his head in her direction. The glare from his glasses made his expression unreadable. He began softly despite his sharp presence,

"I'm sure you remember it was your mother that cooked," he paused, cocking his head and giving her a sheepish smile.

"I got Chinese, I figured we could have dinner together…" He trailed off, his tone held an undercurrent of uncertainty. Her heart felt intense pangs of nostalgia as she recalled how often Luke had once said that to her. He always grabbed takeout when her mother was nowhere to be found at dinner time. A sweet smile graced her pixie-like features and she moved surely to the empty space next to Luke on the couch. Out of the corner of her eye, Clary saw Luke regard her with a loving smile and rested his hand on her shoulder tentatively. It was almost as if he was scared he would move too suddenly she would take off and never come back. Clary felt the affection stir feelings of joy in the pit of her stomach and she eased herself into her seat. Luke moved his hand from her shoulder to ruffle her hair. She swatted at his hand and growled at what she assumed to be an even _frizzier_ mop of curls on her head. He chuckled throatily,

"Still obsessed with sweet n' sour pork?" He regarded her with lighthearted amusement.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Was her sole dry reply. He handed her a fork and a white-styrofoam box, filled with what she assumed to be her food. Once he felt his daughter had been taken care of, Luke moved onto to grabbing his own food and leaned into the couch with a relieved sigh. Her eyes looked at him inquisitively at his movements,

"Dad, is there something wrong?" He scoffed at her question.

"Do you still get first day jitters?" She nodded her head slowly, not sure why he had asked.

"Well, so do I. I get to learn about 200 new names in one day, and  
I'm to know the faces that match them intimately. Furthermore, I'm filled in a room of horny-hormone filled teenagers who don't want to be there and it's my job to teach him." He took off his glasses and his ice blue eyes crinkled with humor as he looked at his daughter. He mused,

"I suppose I did this to myself, being a high school teacher...I was that age once too-I remember what was on _my_ mind. It's hard to forget that as im staring into a room full of children, _really_." Clary couldn't help but snort and laugh carelessly with her father and how absolutely _right_ he had been. She silently hoped her father would have an excellent class this year, and it only motivated her to vow to do better in her classes. This is what her mother want for her, after all. The thought burdened the room and the duo lay in silence, eating their food and losing themselves in their own perspective worlds.

This is where Clary begun to recall the similarities between Luke and herself. Her mother would have _never_ opted to sit in silence during a meal, she would have rambled out loud to herself just to keep the stillness of the room at bay. Luke and Clary could sit comfortably in silence because they had nothing to _say_. She did, however, wish idly that there was _at least_ background noise to drown out the annoying sounds they made eating their food. She searched for something in the room to distract her from her own chewing and found Luke had closed his takeout box and was reading _No Country for Old Men_ by Cormac McCarthy. The sheen plastic that made the cover of the book glistened deviously as she watched her father. His glasses made it back onto his face; Clary thought it made him seem less approachable. She cleared her throat.

"Can I ask you something?" Luke shot her an unreadable look from behind his glasses and closed the book gently, forgetting to mark what page he last read. His tone reassuringly replied,

"Of course you can. What is it, Clare?" Her emerald eyes had darkened into mossy green ones as she sorted her thoughts carefully in her head. She was calculated, bordering cold in her appearance.

"Why didn't you call me for Christmas' or my birthdays?" She pierced him to his seat with her intense stare. He measured his daughter with equal intensity. His voice was slightly guilty,

"I had thought it was what you wanted." He didn't explain any further, and Clary didn't need him to. She had once called her father and told him the next time she wanted to see him was in a casket. Disgust at herself for being so unfair to him he had not wanted to contact her, she looked out one of the few windows in the house that gave her view of an empty street. Her reply was simple,

"I'm sorry."

Luke 's expression was one of concern as he urgently said to Clary,

"I'm the one who should apologize, Clary- I was the adult. We were your parents and we've failed you in so many ways. And you're so strong.."

At the sight of his daughter's tears, he paused and pulled her closer to him, embracing her tenderly. He wiped the tears streaming down her freckled cheeks and continued to speak. She felt her body automatically tuck herself into him as she sniffled loudly.

"I'm so proud of the woman you've become. Look at how much you've done without us, I aspire to be more like you." Everything he told Clary was sincere, and he seemed almost feverish as he tried to reassure her.

"Your mother and I aren't a reflection of who you are or who you will be. And I don't expect you to forgive us for our failures because I still hold a grudge against my parents for things they've done. Just know, I'll always love you kid and I'm here for you." It was extremely surreal for Clary here, in this moment. Here, someone pushed aside their feelings and took care of her. Someone comforted _her_. Someone _else_ finally was the parent. Her walls slid down and she let herself be weak for this brief period of time. She didn't stop to worry if she made anyone uncomfortable, or if her mascara bled onto Luke's shirt, or if she had snot bubbling out of her nose. In this moment, she got to be a child being comforted by her father.

Clary awoke, frightened and confused by her surroundings entirely. Her eyes alertly scanned the dark room she was in; Moving her body slightly, the leather sofa groaned against her skin. With a sigh, she realized she must have fallen asleep on the couch with Luke. He was nowhere to be found, but there had been a pillow underneath her head and a blanket over her body that had not been there when she fell asleep. Happiness blossomed in her chest lazily. Her food had been put away and her eyes began to adjust to the pitch black appearance of the living room. Her handed fumbled as it reached out to grab what she assumed to be her phone on the coffee table close to her. Victorious, Clary clicked the lock button on her screen and peered blindly at it. The clock read 4:27 AM and a picture of her and mother at Balboa Park stared back at her. Groaning with frustration, Clary had accidentally loosened her grip; As consequence, her phone fell flat on her face. Seething at her own stupidity, she tossed her phone carelessly on the coffee table after setting an alarm for 6:00 AM. Tiredly, she tucked herself back in on the couch and let sleep take over her body. She had not cared enough to move herself to her room, and slept soundly with the disturbance of dreams for the first time in a long time.

Jace awoke half-naked and covered in sweat, his blonde hair stuck to his forehead due to the perspiration. Grumpily, he he glared fiercely at his alarm clock. It read 5 AM, and Jace thoroughly considered dropping out of high school and modelling across Europe. He flattered himself with thoughts of scantily clad Italian woman swooning over his chiseled physique as he kicked off whatever remained of his covers. Which, in all honestly was a sheet that already hung halfway off his bed. He sat up in bed, stretching languidly like a cat. In one fluid motion, Jace made his way to the bathroom connected his his bare bedroom and shut the door behind him.

That was one of the perks of living with filthy-rich parents, he didn't have to walk more than six feet to get to his own private bathroom. He was soon resting on the edge of the porcelain tub, deftly turning the knobs for the water to pour out swiftly. The shower head spewed warm water lovingly, and Jace embraced it open heartedly. He felt the muscles in his back loosen and relax against the water's comforting presence. Steam fogged the mirror in his bathroom while time passed by sluggishly. Jace opened his eyes in the midst of all the fog and halfheartedly decided it was time to leave the shower's comforting presence. Wrapping a towel lowly around his hips, Jace made the short trek back to his bedroom. He glanced over loathingly at his alarm clock. The time read 5:20AM, it was time for him to do his daily run through the neighborhood. Sighing heavily, he threw the towel over his bed frame and searched naked for breathable clothes for his workout. Begrudgingly, he realized there was nothing _clean_ he could use. Oh well, this wasn't a unique experience for Jace.

Clary did her absolute best to be early to her class, succeeding by arriving a whole _minute_ early. She huffed prissily as she made her way through the arched doorway, leading to her first period class. Anticipation stirred relentlessly in her gut as she gazed around the room. This classroom looked as if it had been pulled out of someone else's school. Instead of mirroring the countless lecture halls, which had been built to accommodate students of all creeds, this room had several wooden tables covered in random splashes of paint. There was no giant whiteboards adorning the walls, but instead hundreds upon hundreds of art, which seemed to be illustrated by students.

Only a projector lay next to the cluttered circle desk in the front of the rooms. Around the table sat cheap, plastic chairs that had not failed to remind Clary that no matter how influential the school, the art department got shit for their yearly budget. Students were filling in behind her, and some guy had even aggressively hit her shoulder as they passed by her. She narrowed her eyes at the retreating form of the tall, muscular boy who had hit her. He neglected to look back at her, seemingly oblvious to how much of an ashsole he was. She darted into a seat closest to her and slammed her head down on the table harder than intended. Her hair pooled together onto the table of her choice and she waited for the bell to ring to signal the start of class. Someone scraped the metal legs of the chair next to her painstakingly across the floor, and then slowly slid in all too close to her. Clary frowned. It felt like someone had opened the blinds and let the sun shine solely on her small form. She lifted her head to protest at her peer for invading her space, but before she managed to turn her head Clary noticed the rude dick from earlier looking at her. He was handsome, she admitted ashamedly, and had dark, menacing eyes she bet plenty of girls swooned for. He reminded her of some dark prince, or even Hades. Her skin crawled when he let a slow, sharp smile form on his face. Flickering out of his mouth like a snake, his tongue shot of his mouth as he dragged it across his thin lips. If he had not been such an absolute prat, she may have blushed at such a provocative gesture. Instead, she pretended to search for something in the pocket of her blue and green flannel before pulling her hand out and flipping him off.

A beautiful voice next to her chuckled softly at her antics; She hadn't noted the dark prince's hungry expression after she had flipped him the bird because she was now totally shocked Jace was sitting right next to her. He smiled, actually smiled, at her tenderly and Clary couldn't feel her face. The bell rang shrilly and she was literally saved by the bell. A woman, who appeared to be their age and made entirely out of porcelain, called out in a melodic voice to her class.

"Bonjour! I hope everyone recovered nicely from his or her first day of classes. As I mentioned yesterday, we are going to practice portraits with a partner! Now, I know it seems daunting- but I need to see where everyone is in their work. Off you go!"

The woman stalked off with the grace of a doe, her platinum blonde hair trailing behind her as she moved to lock the door from latecomers. Clary turned to Jace and waited for him to say something. For whatever reason, his gentle smile had been replaced with an infuriating smirk.

"So, I know it was pretty overwhelming to be around me for so long yesterday without stripping me naked, but it's a little soon to be having withdrawals." Clary rolled her eyes and tried to flick his ear, he dodged it easily.

"I couldn't have less of an idea what you're talking about- and I would kindly ask you to scoot a little further away from me." He appraised her with a knowing expression.

"Clary, you head was down on the table like someone drowned you in a bowl of soup," she barked out a laugh at the idea. He continued, encouraged by her attention. "And I think we both know you have to slowly wean yourself off all this magnificence." He flipped his hair and put both arms behind his head and flexed them forcefully. He puckered his lips and blew Clary air kisses.

"Now, I shall commission a portrait of myself. You must draw me perfectly of suffer dire consequences." Clary had to restrain herself from throwing a pencil into his face.

"Jace, the only consequence of importance is my grade. Now you can either pose like an Abercrombie model, or you can just sit still like a human being." He seemed dissatisfied with her ultimatum. Pouting adorably, Jace's eyes shone with crocodile tears.

"But you haven't even asked me properly to be your nude model." Clary had been sipping from her water at the wrong time, right place. She coughed it out onto her jeans and tried to recover miserably from such an embarrassing moment. She blushed fiercely and she pointlessly tried to dry the water on her leg with her flannel sleeve. Luckily, she had worn a shirt underneath it today and wouldn't miss it all that much. She hadn't noticed Jace leave and return with paper towels. His hand grabbed a few of them and began to dab the wet spot softly on Clary's thigh. She suppressed the urge to moan at such an intimate sensation and felt guiltily for perceiving Jace's kind actions as anything sexual. Warmth radiated from her thigh into sensitive areas and she fought the urge to cross her legs. She bit her lip and subconsciously leaned a little bit away from the delectable man before her.

"Thank you," her voice came out light and shy. Jace's golden eyes darkened to a rugged amber color as he looked up from Clary's toned legs and watched her lips part.

"Don't thank me yet, you owe me Midge."


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, so life has been pretty insane for me as of late. I have a lot going on at the moment and I'm just blessed to still have followers and favorites and reviews for this story. I felt like I had lost direction with** **the story, but I am pleased to announce this is the longest chapter yet. There will be much more mature themes from now on, so I am changing the rating. I don't think I'll be writing any lemons, but there will be drug use and sexual situations. Also, there is mention of a character in jail so if that is a trigger for you, please read something else. In addition, I want it to be known that yes, there will be Clace but I would really like to start them off as frenemies instead of star-crossed lovers or something. After all, successful relationships start off as friendships! Anyhow, you guys are the best and I love you all! Enjoy!**

"I owe you jack, Blondie."

Clary shook herself out her hormone-induced frenzy after being totally turned off by Jace's personality. She had thought she was better than this, this sniveling overly emotional child who let her growing frustrations get the drop on her. Moreover, in the middle of a learning environment, for _Chris sakes_. Iridescent eyes lowered into viridian slits on Clary's freckled face as she began to systematically and methodically project all her feelings of rage, desire, and self-loathing atop of the boy now turned prey. Silence flickered over them, darting in between the two while the air held its breath, which Jace had only chalked up to be bristling sexual tension. In reality, Clary could not be less incensed at the man that sat beside her. His hand had retracted itself from her thigh long ago; a ghost of his still caress lingered there. It would seem deep in the fabric of what made up Jace, self preservation instincts lay dormant that help prevent the young man from losing his hand, whether he deserved it or not. Students' voices carried on around the two, ones stare bleeding into the other endlessly in an erratic tandem.

Jace could easily imagine Clary as a cat; He could never tell if she did or didn't want his attention and withheld attention from most everyone from what he could tell. She had mesmerizing eyes which entranced him, yet they typically registered him with a coldness akin to some reptile. _Like now_ , he thought amusedly. Teasing her was fast becoming his favorite pastime. He noticed she had raised both of her brows at his goofy expression and he couldn't help but wag his eyebrows in return. Her expression had not softened; instead she had only cleared her throat and waited expectantly. Stubborn as she was, he had not been fazed by her impatience. Shaking her leg with anticipation, she cracked.

"What is _so_ funny?" Her voice lulled into his ears softly, he had been expecting it to be loud and stubborn.

"You don't like being in the dark, do you?"

The ghost of a smirk dissipated on Jace's face before it could appear. There was a slight flush to her cheeks to which he could only assume was from his complete charm. He was dead wrong. Anger had caused her blood to boil and cheeks to camouflage into her fiery hair.

"I don't think there's a person on this _planet_ that enjoys floating around in ignorance."

Her eyes flickered over to where their teacher sat, painting her nails and chiding any student who came to interrupt her with questions.

"We should at the very least start the portraits of each other- or ourselves? I can't remember what she said…."

Clary's voice trailed off as she frowned deeply.

"Come to think of it, what even is her name?"

Jace coughed suddenly and unconvincingly to hide what would have soon become snickers. Mouth quirked upward, he regarded Clary humorously.

"See, there you go again fretting over nothing,"

he paused to poke her in the nose. Her nostrils flared in response and he could have sworn if Clary had been a cat she would have hissed at him. Knowing full well the consequences of what he was going to do, Jace let a radiating smile spread across his handsome face as he spoke to Clary.

"You're so cute when you're upset, Clary."

His voice was teasing and harmless, absolutely no venom behind his words whatsoever. However, Clary had the temperament of a badger on crack and the patience of a correctional officer at this moment in time. There was a hardness that appeared suddenly in her eyes.

"Here's the deal, I'm going to take a picture of you- Shut up and stifle whatever obnoxiously narcissistic comment you have ready."

Jace's eyes glimmered but he remained silent nonetheless. Clary continued on brusquely,

"You can take a picture of me as well, so I don't have to sit next to you while you just stroke yourself verbally to how wonderful you are and what a precious, precious gift you are to this planet."

Jace's smirk had never moved an inch off of his face. There was something Clary had noticed underneath it all that seemed a tad menacing.

"Believe me, Dorothy, while the thought of continuing this journey alongside you and the other munchkins down the yellow brick road is super tempting, I would also like to end this venture as soon as possible."

Shocked, Clary's mouth hung open at Jace's insults, which targeted her hair color, short height and childish behavior. Her mouth had turned into a thin hard line, which drew Jace's attention to her lips. He thought in all her anger, she had resembled a bit of a bird.

"I didn't think we needed to be accompanied by the Cowardly Lion anyhow, I don't fancy needing to pick up your slack the whole way." Quickly, she slid her hand into her back pocket and snapped a candid photo of Jace. After doing so, she grabbed her things and stood up angrily to rid herself of her companion's most frustrating presence. His voice reached her ears belatedly, and by the time she had moved everything of hers into a new seat, her brain registered his words.

"Don't forget about _my_ picture."

Mr. Starkweather seemed to be in a merciful mood this morning, _or early afternoon_ , Clary supposed. He spent the first fifteen minutes of class time explaining to the class the parameters of an assignment he deemed, a "one pager." Basically, the students were to fill up one page or less with their writing pertaining to what three literary pieces or works explored in previous classes were your favorite, why, and what they had in common.

"The catch is, you'll find it hard to work with such a small space with so much density in this topic. However, brevity is the soul of wit; I shall teach you to speak with purpose."

He ended his promised allotted time with a loud clap of his hands.

"Now, get to work. I want to hear minimum and productive chatter only."

With his hands behind his back, he swiftly returned to his desk from his podium. Silence hung in the air for a fleeting moment before students returned aimlessly to their work, letting out yawns and a few hands shot up into the sky as some stretched. Clary reached without looking and pulled her backpack into her lap, unzipping the largest pocket almost viciously. After she pulled her binder out, she found a clean piece of college ruled paper in the contents of her dividers which she delicately let slip from her hands a float onto her table sideways. Putting her head into her hands she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She felt her lips curl softly into a smile as she replayed Mr. Starkweather's previous remarks. It reminded her of when her mother would mock how often she said the word _like_. Jocelyn was a woman who had a nearly photographic memory; She used to read dictionaries just to learn new words to use around others. Yet, one would not assume she was an educated woman; she cursed like a sailor and wasn't scared to drop anything controversial into the conversation. Clary's eyes crinkled with mirth thinking about her mother holding up her hand and counting how many times Clary said "like," in a sentence. After her mom had _run out of fingers_ one day while Clary spoke, the little Fray became much more mindful of the words that left her mouth. This was one of those rare moments where Clary didn't feel hurt radiate from her heart and seep deeply into her bones thinking of her mother. She was comforted by this clean, familiar memory. It was normal, _healthy even_.

Interrupted by a groan emitted from the dark prince that had pushed her aside only hours ago, she noticed he sat sulking in her English class alongside a fairly attractive brunette boy. The brunette had tattoos and hazel-green eyes that made her heart race a little faster than necessary. He was tall and broad shouldered, with long brown hair that swooped down his neck in a fashion similar to Jace's liquid gold locks. Clary frowned at the two men, not upset so much by their close presence as she was by the fact she had just compared a perfect stranger to _Jace_. The brooding one cursed and kept shuffling through papers on his table, as if the answer would fall out from the loose pages. Turning to his companion he began to complain pathetically,

"Dude- how the fuck am I supposed to remember books from any previous classes, let alone what the hell I did yesterday?"

Raven strands of fine hair dropped in front of his face, but he quickly blew them away with a loud huff. The "dude" in question rolled his eyes and chortled at his edgy friend's antics.

"Bro, chill out. Why don't you just lie? You had to of at least read more than three things in your life."

At the sight of his friend's middle finger, the brunette doubled over to laugh hard at edge lord. He hadn't realized how loud he had been, absently noticing several students who glared at him. He ignored their looks and continued on wolfishly,

"You mean to tell me you are in an AP English class and you most likely haven't read anything since Dr. Seuss' _Wacky Wednesday_? It's no wonder your vocabulary is ass, bro."

The dark prince kicked his friend's chair hard enough to dent one of the legs and make the chair tilt his friend almost entirely towards him.

"There's not enough weed in the world to deal with your ass, Kryle."

Clary could not stop eavesdropping on their conversation for the life of her, she couldn't explain to herself what value listening in to those two idiots had.

"Kryle" scoffed testily at his friends pet name.

"I'm sorry you got caught at your place smoking Seb, but just cause your Aunt is a haughty taughty French woman with a stick up her ass doesn't mean you get to be a bitch." Clary snickered quietly at the look of horror on "Seb's" face.

"You keep your mouth shut about my heritage, you jackass. No one needs to know.." His body wracked with shivers at the thought. "Kryle" looked entirely dumbfounded. He leaned forward urgently and Clary had to crane her neck in their direction to make out the words.

"You know literally no one except you cares about that right? Bro, no one seriously gives shit where you came from. You're just a dick, it has nothing to do with the fact you're French." His hand came up to rest on "Seb's" shoulder reassuringly. "Seb" nodded his head gratefully at "Kryle" like it made all the sense in the world. Clary's mouth hung open, and she blinked a couple times to ensure she properly registered the scene before her. She would never understand men. The duo had returned to slightly more classroom appropriate conversation, and Clary found herself bored to death within minutes. She had moved to put her green skull candy headphones into her ears when she heard "Kryle" drop his voice suddenly.

"And dude, just cruise over to my pad after school if you're gonna be all pissy 'cause you can't burn."

Before her mind could really register what her body had set in motion, Clary had taken a seat next to "Seb" and placed her hands firmly on the table. Apparently, even her short legs only needed a few strides to reach them.

"You fellas really 'ought to keep your voice down," she paused briefly as she gauged their reactions. It was almost comical, really, how fearful "Kryle" seemed and how irritated "Seb's" expression was. Before she could continue the dark prince laughed coldly at her,

"We don't want to buy any Girl Scout cookies from you."

He crossed his arms and flexed them as he moved, Clary had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

"Okay thank you for the tremendous greeting dickweed, but it doesn't matter. I'm not here to sell anything."

A wolfish grin appeared on her face and somehow managed to make her small stature dwarf the two large men's at the lecture table.

"I'm here to buy, and I would like an invitation after school as well 'Kryle,'" she shot at the brunette with a coy smile. Her eyelashes fluttered against the tops of her cheeks as she gazed at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about lady," "Kryle" let out bored.

"Look I just moved here and I don't know anybody." Her pleading tone only made the man more suspicious of her.

"Yeah, no. I'm not interested in talking to you anymore."

She was surprised; she thought with a nickname like "Kryle" he would be more of a baby. "Seb" grabbed her wrist tightly and pulled her arm off the table. Red enveloped her vision at the total audacity of this son of a bitch to put his grimy hands on her. She pulled him towards her in his seat with a surprising show of strength. "Seb's" elegant face was a mere inches from hers, his black eyes churning her insides.

"Don't fucking touch me again," and with that, Clary crushed his closest foot with her own and scooted away from him in the same motion. "Seb" bit his lip to stifle a howl and grabbed his foot with both of his hands, hissing at the contact.

"You fucking bitch, ugh…" His voice had gone a few pitches higher, and it made pride swell in the fiery vixen's chest. "Kryle" let out a low whistle.

"Well I guess I can't say you're a narc anymore..."

"My foot still fucking hurts," Sebastian whined.

Clary had learned his name was Sebastian, and it seemed like a befitting douchebag name. "Kryle's" name was actually Jordan. They walked together in a small huddle in the direction of the cafeteria. He had turned out to be a very easygoing stoner, which made Clary feel instantly relaxed around him. She knew he didn't give a crap about her past or if she smoked or if she only wanted to talk to him so she could score bud. After all, he put up with Sebastian's nasty attitude every day so she figured this man had saint like patience. Jordan's lip quivered and threatened to turn into a smile.

"Just ignore him, he probably figures if he complains enough some idiot will pity him and come tend to him."

The redhead giggled and placed her eyes on Sebastian's form, which wasn't limping or seemingly harmed in the slightest. Clary rolled her eyes and called him out on it,

"Dude, you're not even hurt. If you're gonna whine and moan the entire time and put us through living hell, you gotta have something seriously wrong with you."

"Yeah, next time you talk you better be dead," Jordan injected solemnly. Clary nodded in agreement and the two of them began to walk faster, forcing Sebastian to walk behind them instead of between them. Making their way past students to their destination, they couldn't help but earn stares form their peers due to Seb's loud bitching. The destination aforementioned would be any table that wasn't occupied by somebody already. They settled on a table that was partially covered in mysterious food splatter, a couple of penises' and swastikas' that were etched into the surface by what Clary can only assume were intolerant freshmen. Jordan had moved his tattooed body into a seat by himself and Clary had decided to sit opposite of him. Surprise had wracked her body when she felt Sebastian's weight drop on the bench beside her, his arm accidentally brushing hers gently as he sat. She had only absolute distaste for the bastard so far, but he was easy on the eyes. Her mind was rational; he was a pig of a person. But her body told her his burning warmth felt pleasant, and that pork was good for her once in a while. She desperately needed some Jesus, or any divine being to help keep her mind out of the gutter. Jordan's eyes scanned the room, looking for something despairingly as if he were a man lost at sea. Sebastian seemed to pay no mind to his friend's strange behavior and was playing maze runner on his IPhone 6. Clary looked between the two men quizzically, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. Something she did must have alerted Sebastian to her confusion because he replied to her thoughts to the letter.

"He's looking for his ex."

The nonchalant manner in which Sebastian replied left Clary with a little respect for him. He had not delved any further and had no interest in discussing it with her. This man was trash, but at least he respected his friend's privacy. Or maybe, he just didn't care. Apparently, Jordan gave up looking for whoever his ex was; He looked at his companions hungrily.

"Do you guys have food? I'm starving," he whined.

Clary shook her head and mouthed "nope," while Sebastian flipped Jordan off. Clary noticed he had a large ring present on his middle digit.

"C'mon Clary, I know you're holding out on me," Jordan's voice was low and a teasing smile spread across his face. He watched Clary with narrowed eyes and a predatory smile that made her feel really, really hot.

"If I had food, don't you think I would actually be eating?"

She snorted at his stupidity, shaking off any earlier thoughts.

"Besides, _normally_ I'm not hungry at this time of day."

She rose from her seat and snatched her backpack suddenly, calling out to the two from behind her shoulder.

"I'll be back," their responses were lost in the surrounding chatter as Clary made her way to the closest vending machine. It was tucked away into its own corner close to the bathrooms, seemingly off in some separate space from the cafeteria. Approaching the machine, she reached into her bag to pull out her wallet and hope she had some loose change. As she dug $2.25 in change from its messy contents, she heard someone shuffle into the small space alongside her. Clary halted her actions as soon as she heard the person and moved to lean against the wall. She wanted to take her time looking since she only had limited cash on hand; Her eyes took in the sight of whom she assumed to be Jordan before her. The sun burned fiercely through windows behind him, she could not read the expression on his face.

"If you had stopped to give me some notice of where you were going, I could have told you that this vending machine is broken."

His voice was low and gravelly, and Clary thought he sounded much older than he was.

"I figured you had gotten lost and were all alone, scared."

She knew he was teasing her, and it made her stomach flutter.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Clary replied in the deepest voice she could. Jordan stepped closer to her with a very pleased look, his broad shoulders momentarily distracted Clary from his lips. Inching closer to Clary, his chest rose and fell slowly as he hummed in acknowledgement.

"You seem lost yourself," Clary stated curiously. She picked up a stray lock of hair and twiddled it between her index finger and thumb meticulously. His expression was impassive as she regarded him from the corner of her eye.

"I wonder where you wander off to all alone in that big head of yours…" Her voice trailed off and her face had adopted a very sly look. Jordan sighed.

"I can't stop thinking about Maia," he mumbled.

His eyes glossed over and Clary felt a small part of him shut off from her in that very moment. Her voice turned sympathetic and she hesitantly reached her hand out, almost placing it on his shoulder before retracting it to her side.

"She was who you were looking for earlier."

It was a statement, not a question. Jordan nodded deeply. Bags seemed to appear under his eyes Clary had failed to notice beforehand.

"I...I just can't seem to claw her out of my mind. It's like everything I see reminds me of her," his voice trailed off unsure.

Clary watched him with bright, empathetic eyes in the dim light of the small space.

"She said I was too sensitive." His fingers twitched at his side, Clary couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was craving a cigarette. Clary nodded her head slowly.

"Yeah, I can't believe you'd have the audacity to have feelings." She scrunched her nose in fake disgust.

"I know my dream man is totally unfeeling, the more emotionally detached the better."

Jordan didn't seem to perk up much at Clary's attempt at humor, but his eyes looked less wild than they had before. He regarded Clary distantly. She cocked her head at the man before her.

"Where did you go?" Her voice moved melodically around them, surprising Clary with it's lilt.

Jordan bit his tongue before he spilled his messy, chaotic love life into the hands of this strange woman before him. He felt like was pushing his problems on her shoulders, albeit delicate and smooth looking shoulders. Come to think of it, Jordan was distracted from his distractions with Clary. With a guilty feeling crawling in the pit of his stomach, Jordan realized he wanted Clary. He wanted her panting under him, and he wanted her company and he wanted her to do placate him while he pined selfishly for another woman. He did not love her, or truly care for her. He wanted her to make him forget and by God, did he miss _sex._ Jordan Kyle let Maia reduce him to a scumbag, the very thing he always tried to convince her he wasn't. Here he was, following a girl _who just wanted to buy a snack_ he had just barely met- so he could maybe somehow charm his way into her pants after smoking her out in his _shitty_ house. He drew in a ragged breath to dam the incessant river of thoughts flooding his mind.

"I was just wondering what Hogwarts House would suit you the best," his voice was shaky but not uncertain.

Clary seemed to take his answer very seriously and immediately furrowed her brow in deep concentration. He felt a pang in his heart watching her. She looked like Maia when she focused.

"Probably Hufflepuff. I think they're really underestimated and don't get the credit they deserve in the wizarding world. I mean, they're loyal and kind- that's what i attempt to be at least. I don't think I'm very brave, so I couldn't be a Gryffindor. I'm not cunning or ambitious, like a Slytherin. And finally, I'm an absolute idiot. Soooo, Ravenclaw is definitely out." She looked at Jordan expectantly.

"Well?" He raised a brow at her.

"Anymore burning thoughts, or can we return to the table now?" He appraised Clary mildly with luminous eyes.

"Just wondering if you were gonna need a ride to my place after school," he replied coolly. Clary looked extremely grateful.

"Yes, please, I'm too damn lazy to walk to wherever you live."

She didn't wait for him to say anything and moved past him back into the cafeteria. It hadn't taken Jordan very long to catch up to Clary. They walked alongside each in comfortable silence side by side. When she spotted Sebastian, she noticed four more bodies than when she was last there surrounding the table. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Isabelle and Jace.

Clary didn't want an interrogation from the overbearing and overbearingly beauteous Isabelle, nor Jace's endless attempts to get under her skin. Jordan was one step ahead of Clary and walked right back in their direction he came from. He stalked past Clary hastily and hadn't bothered to tell her what came up so suddenly. She cursed and scrambled after him. Although she would not tell him this, she was happy to have the excuse to bail out on lunch. He had returned to the vending machine where he had found her only moments before. This time, he was sitting on the ground like a kicked puppy and she responsible for cheering him up. She pushed her back to the wall and slid down on the floor beside him, discarding her backpack on the floor.

"Okay, I'm starting to see why you're called 'Kryle,'" she waited for a response. Nothing.

"Seriously, do you need to go home?"

There was a small prick of concern in Clary's spine that made her sit up straighter and lean closer to him. She moved away the brown tendrils of hair, which hid his eyes from her. That seemed to stir him awake enough to look at her. His hand gently enveloped hers and he shook his head.

"Look, Maia was at the table. I don't wanna scare her off by coming back to the table." His eyes wandered around the room.

"I don't need to go home, I just wanna get the fuck outta here."

Clary grinned at him brightly in return. She produced a hair tie out of thin air before Jordan, or at least that's what he thought. It had really been on her wrist the whole time. She chided him jokingly,

"Well than quit sitting around here _crying_ , and go make yourself throw up in the nurse's office. And I mean the works, I've had a school nurse check the toilet to see if I was lying or not one time." Jordan tossed his head back and laughed.

" _Devious_ ," he mused. She rolled her eyes and snorted at him.

"Yeah, I'm out of control."

"I like it."

His eyes burned into hers before standing up slowly.

"I'll catch you later, babe."

He winked teasingly and left with a lopsided grin. Clary, after watching his receding form, decided to play on her phone for the remainder of lunch.

With a "click," of the power button the lock screen lit up before her. There was a missed call from Las Colinas. Her heart sank slowly through her chest, squeezing the breath out of her lungs as it dropped harshly into her stomach. Las Colinas was a _women's detention facility_. Clary had little to no people in her life, let alone _women_ in her life. She tried to rationalize the missed call as a wrong number. Plenty of people moved on and changed their numbers; maybe someone was just trying to reach one of those people. Even alone with nothing but the hum of the vending machine, the excuse seemed too weak to mutter out loud. Jocelyn was in jail, and Clary knew there was really nothing she could do about it. Unlocking her phone, her fingers nimbly typed "Las Colinas Prison," into Safari and immediately found _San Diego Sheriff's Department | Las Colinas Detention and Reentry Facility_ as the first link listed. Clicking on it, her eyes scanned the page until she found a sub link that read, _Who's In Jail_. She found a box for "Last Name," and another for "First Name." Air waited with bated breath alongside Clary as she filled out her mother's name, Jocelyn Fray. Unfortunately for the Frays, there was a search result. Her booking number appeared as well as a bold FELONY ASSAULT tag on the end of all the information. There wasn't much else for her to go on besides that. Clary pushed past all her, "what if's…" And used her mother's booking number to send her money for phone calls and commissary. At the very least, she could provide her mother that small comfort. After all, Clary rarely spent money and this felt like a pretty good reason to dip into her savings. The bell had rung a few minutes ago; Clary hadn't noticed the shuffling of footsteps as students left the previously boisterous cafeteria. She didn't care, nothing else was as important as taking care of her mom. _Nothing would ever be as important_. Her mom was weak, she needed to be protected and _Clary had failed her by leaving_. Tears escaped her eyes, dripping down her angular cheekbones and splashing her collarbone chaotically. Clary felt useless, and empty alone in that room: She wondered how she could have prevented her mother being forced into jail for what she assumes was self-defense, she wondered if she could have convinced her mother to leave the house and run with her to a woman's shelter, she wondered if her mother is safe and if she's going to be there for days, weeks, months. The vending machine's hum grew sharp, as if it was trying to divert her attention to _anything_ outside of her mind. She rose without a sound, backpack slugged over one shoulder. The stillness of the air was gone once she had made her way out of the cafeteria and into the sunshine. Her fifth period teacher was a man, she figured she'd just tell him she couldn't find a tampon if he wants to make an example of her for being so late.

Isabelle's nails glittered dangerously as she tapped them repeatedly on the glossy table. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Clary dart into Mr. Garroway's class seconds before it was too late. She couldn't help but feel jealous of Jordan spending lunch with Clary, they should have been having lunch and talking life and fashion and they would be totally cute and best friends forever. Isabelle's face was cool and collected as her ranted tirelessly in her head. Clary approached Isabelle and nodded, sliding into the desk alongside her. Neither moved to speak to the other, both frustrated for completely different reasons. Clary was not sure why Isabelle had not pounced on her viciously for gossip like she had promised, but she treasured the silence and made no move to break it. The redhead felt guilty, but she couldn't manage to pay attention to anything her steady father said to the class. She had been moving in constant blur through her day since lunch and couldn't seem to focus the world around her. Isabelle tossed her thick, black hair and raised an eyebrow at Clary. She looked pale, well paler, and there seemed to be a fog over her eyes as if she were high. Concern made Isabelle's brows knit together tightly as she regarded her soon to be best friend for life. Something about the way in which Clary couldn't remain focused on one thing in the room for more than a few minutes made Isabelle feel guilty for being jealous earlier. The raven-haired beauty turned her worrisome gaze away from Clary and to her father. She felt for some reason like she was invading her privacy watching her so closely. Isabelle pursed her lips and began to tap her nails against the desk again. She would leave Clary alone, for today. There was nothing in this world she didn't get anyhow, Clary would come around to her soon.

Jordan waited patiently in his tiny, rusted Honda he'd gotten for $300 off some shady relative of his for Sebastian and Clary. He was eager to be home and with people he felt companionship with, people who wouldn't give a shit about who he was or wasn't as a man. He pulled at his hair absently, impatiently waiting for them to _hurry the fuck up_. Red flames bobbed up and down in the midst of a group of students. Jordan felt his lips pull back into a smile, one down and one more to go. He watched Clary as she gracefully walked over to him on her toned legs and gave him a big toothy grin.

"I haven't been able to smoke since I moved in with my dad," she sighed dreamily

. Her eyes were glittering and she seemed like something was breathing life into her before him. A smile was offered to her in return and they sat in silence, both comforted by the other. Sebastian was still nowhere to be seen after ten minutes. Jordan cursed and pulled out his phone, searching for Seb's contact information. Sebastian answered within seconds, he sounded pissed.

"No way am I third wheeling today with you and that Oompa Loompa."

Jordan rolled his eyes, forgetting his friend could not see his reactions.

"You won't, stop acting all prissy and just hang out with us."

A click resounded loudly through Jordan's phone and he frowned deeply.

"Clary, Seb cancelled but I can take you home anyway. We'll just hang out another day."

Her eyes widened and Jordan was afraid her lip would start to quiver, he doesn't do well around crying girls.

"Aww, come on 'Kryleeee,'" at the sound of his pet name Jordan scoffed and moved to get in the driver side of the vehicle.

"Whatever, just realize you'll be walking your cute ass home if you decide you're tired of me within minutes." Clary had beaten him to the inside of the vehicle, slapping his arm three times as he sat down. She had also turned slightly pink, realizing he had called her _cute_.  
"Ow, ow- woman. Jesus Christ, what do you slap your knuckles against concrete or something so you can beat on men easier?" She growled at him.

"Only when they refuse to take me to their fucking house and get me stoned!" She continued to strike him in the same spot in his arm until he got the car started, only then did she put her tiny fists down.

"God no wonder you smoke pot," Jordan muttered under his breath.

"What was that, KYLE?"

"Nothing, babe."

His gulp was loud enough for Clary to hear.

Clary hadn't even paid attention to the peeling wallpaper and the holes in the drywall, nor the stains on the carpet or how dirty and run down his apartment was. It was nothing she hadn't lived herself before. All she could see was a big, dirty bag of beautiful weed covered in lovely orange crystals. He heard her inhale sharply at the sight of it. When he turned to look back at her, he could have sworn she started to sweat at the sight of it. _That couldn't be good, could it_? Jordan cleared his throat awkwardly,

"I'll be back with the bong, then. Did you...Uh, want water?"

She nodded her head politely and watched him as he left his room. He had a mattress on the floor, a TV and an Xbox 1. That was it. Clary made herself at home and turned on the console, idly looking through discarded games on the floor beside it. She smirked triumphantly when she came across Mortal Kombat 10. That was the _one game_ she could whip this boys' ass at, she was sure. No one had ever beaten her before and she intended to keep her record spick and span. He returned with a short, solid black, glass bong and a glass of water.

"Thank you," she said with a happy smile.

"Are you down to get your ass beat like a bitch, by a bitch?" Jordan put her water on the floor after realizing Clary wasn't going to grab it from him. Clary waved the game in front of him like she was baiting a bull. He tapped his lighter against the bong to remind Clary why she had come here in the first place. Taking the hint, she grabbed it from him, checking to make sure he had loaded it before she inhaled pure butane or ash. Wrinkling her nose at the thought, Clary flicked the lighter on and inhaled the good shit and exhaled all her bullshit. With a loud, " _Ahhhhhh_ ," she handed the bong back to Jordan sloppily and fell on his bed in pure content. Clary never noticed his lips part, his breath turn ragged or the way in which his eyes undressed her at every chance he could while she was sprawled out on his bed. Jordan didn't care about getting baked, he wanted Clary to moan his name and dig her fingernails into his back. He wanted her to beg for it. His voice was rough with lust.

"To answer your question, I'm not too interested in being schooled by someone in the second grade." She scrunched her nose and looked up at him, blinking slowly. He moved closer to her side and began to trail his fingers lightly, pleasurably against the underside of his arm. Clary let out a feathery sigh and surrendered to his touch. Her hair spilled across his sheets, like liquid fire. It truly looked like her hair was aflame, and he wanted her to burn him. He wanted her lips to set his on fire, and to lick molten trails onto his skin. Something twitched and strained in Jordan's pants as he worked small ministrations into Clary's skin. She felt something hot and hard push into her side; it made her skin flush with arousal and her nipples harden at his touch. This felt so good, so _desperately_ good and Clary needed a very wonderful distraction to drag her away from the rest of the world. Jordan grew bolder and lowered his tatted, toned build on top of Clary, moving his lips onto her neck, slowly sucking the sensitive skin. She knew he was probably using her, and that was _great_ news because she most certainly was going to use him. He bit, hard and suddenly, into the creamy flesh of her neck and she moaned deeply. He felt like he was going to tear her clothes off at this point, he needed her now. He moved his hand down to palm her womanhood gently in his hand, Clary letting out a long hiss at the contact. He slid his finger up and down on the outside of her pants, pushing harder and with more pressure when he found that little bundle of nerves he knew Maia had loved when they were still together. She pushed him away suddenly and looked at him wildly.

"Jordan," she called out carefully. He felt guilt and shame flood him. He pushed himself off of her hurriedly and awkwardly.

"Clary I'm s-," She pushed herself upward, crushing her mouth against his and bit his lower lip, forcing him to open his mouth up to her. Once she needed to catch her breath, she spoke again.

"Jordan, I just need to know if you have a condom." Immediately, the rustling of a belt echoed through the room alongside the sound of clothes hitting the floor. All that could be heard was the rampant squeaking of the bed, protesting the weight of it's combined occupants.

 **How was that? I figured Clary is a healthy adult and doesn't need to sit and wait for Jace to come rescue her from herself. Plus, I think Jordan is a sexier character anyways.**


End file.
